Leg Post 89
NeS1 Post 89 begins in the year 999,984BC, not long after the initial founding of the city of Atlantis on the Atlantean Continent. The original Twelve Founders set up their Round Table within the Basilica Numenades, where they could better commune with their deity, the WriterGod. The group are debating the need to implement a legal system into Atlantean society after the arrival of many immigrants who have methods, such as sacrifice, that do not conform with the general consensus of the Atlantean populace. Shadi the Poet is very much against laws, believing it would impede the freedoms of the people. Unfortunately, he is largely in the minority. They decide to confer with the WriterGod, but, as Luros the Magician fully expected, the WriterGod deems it a human matter. When both Luros the Magician and Renat the Scientist decide it is necessary, Shadi the Poet relents. Simon the Lawyer reveals that his title as 'lawyer' was always for this very purpose, which prompts Luros to ask when the role of Kaesar the Killer actually is, as 'killer' isn't a job. Kaesar notes that he is the one who provides food or leather for Darji the Tailor and that he expects to expand his role with soldiers to enforce the new laws. Possipher the Cakemaker wants to know if laws could also be used to protect intellectual property as he saw someone steal one of his cake recipes. When Tennant the Doctor then proposes that unhealthy food ought to be banned too, Shadi rebuts that people shouldn't be forced to live the way Tennant wants them to. Simon the Lawyer pushes these issues aside as trivial. Stirling the Merchant brings up her concept of 'money exchange', which causes the other eleven to groan as they had heard her talk of her concept of 'money' and the use of gold, which they view as a pointless metal, many times. She asks how they can get products that they have nothing to trade for - Kaesar the Killer suggests killing them, as the new laws against killing wouldn't apply outside of Atlantis. Stirling thinks it would be better to use her money system and then use 'taxation' to ensure they always had money. Simon the Lawyer thinks this sounds like free goods and agrees. Possipher is most reluctant until told he can charge more for his better cakes than the knock-off cakes, which strokes his pride. Li the Toolmaker contemplates fashioning the gold into certified 'circles', making an official currency. In the future, Hippothoon was studying the systems and legal frameworks that had been laid out as he realised he would need to have a just cause to rally the people behind him against the, now, corrupt Atlantean Council. His primary goal was still the overthrow of his grandfather, Cercyon Eleusis, and his wife, who it is revealed is the current descendent of the Poet. Post The Founders' Table In the year 999,984BC, human civilisation is just finding its footing. The fledgling city of Atlantis is being built, governed and enhanced by the diligent work of the original twelve founders – the chosen ones of the city’s deity, the WriterGod. Attracted to the beauty and wealth of the city, humans from small settlements across the Atlantean Continent begin to migrate into the city. With them come a slew of exotic ideas, goods and behaviours. While most are enriching to the young Atlantean society, some practices have struck up fierce debate amongst the original colonists. The Founders have crafted a Round Table, to be held within the recently constructed Basilica Numenaedes where they conduct the affairs of state. Shadi the Poet: “I’m not convinced on this concept. Forcing people to obey rules will stifle creativity and impede freedom!” Kaesar the Killer: “There are many of these outsiders who practice ritual sacrifice. Should we allow this?” Shadi the Poet: “We can show them a better way!” Tennant the Doctor: “And how many will have to be sacrificed before they listen? Is even one death worth such tolerance, Shadi?” Kaesar the Killer: “And what if they do not listen at all? How many children are eager to learn poetry? All of them?” Shadi the Poet: “But there is so much culture to be gained if we allow freedom of expression and thought. If you force people into rules, then they all become homogenous.” Kaesar the Killer: “People can do what they want, within the boundaries of what is acceptable in a civilised society. I know you don’t condone murder and violence, Shadi.” Shadi the Poet: “Those who would give up liberty to purchase safety would deserve neither, and lose both.” Simon the Lawyer: “How… poetic. It is fortunate for you that you are alive to spout such empty platitudes, isn’t it? If you had been sacrificed to the god of - what was it again? – god of cannibalism… well the proof is right there, isn’t? They certainly don’t mince words. Unlike someone.” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Now now, let’s not be rude to Shadi. He has a higher opinion of humanity than you do, Simon.” Luros the Magician: “Perhaps we should consult the WriterGod on this matter?” The twelve of them fall into silence and use their minds to consult with their deity. Within the Basilica Numanaedes, the connection between a mortal and the WriterGod was much stronger and the permanent bond within each of the Founders to the god was empowered. The WriterGod once aided them in founding this city and, in return, the WriterGod needed to be praised. Shadi was dressed in foreign garments that he had been donned in by a new group of immigrants from across the Atlantic Channel. All right colours and sparkles, quite strange in the eyes of the early colonists. They had taken to refined linen with thick and complicated layers to form robes of simple colours. Luros, the magician, wore such robes himself, though the black-stained linen was trimmed by delicate gold with an intricate weave of little stars and moons. Unlike most humans, who were born with sensible colours for the hair like black or blonde, Luros had been born with pastel pink hair. He kept it long and washed it every day, so it was beautiful and shiny. He liked to think his hair was a sign of his divine gift for magic, though he knew full well he was just looking for an excuse to explain why he happened to be born different to everyone else. Shadi kept saying difference was a virtue, but he always felt like the lonely outsider. Shadi’s unkempt beard and long, scraggly hair was prone to criticism from several of the other Founders, who believed they should ‘look the part’, but Shadi always had a way to calm everyone down and get them to see things from his point of view. Messy body hair included. Today, however, Shadi was losing the verbal battle and, Luros was certain, it was because Shadi was not fully convinced of his own position. There was no true victory whether Shadi won the debate or not, because either path would lead to some form of detriment to the social order that was being created in Atlantis. There were days that Luros, sometimes, regretted being chosen as a Founder and wished he could join the common magicians outside, performing tricks for everyone. So much was expected of him and he doubted he would ever be able to deliver. The WriterGod held the three principles of science, words and magic in the highest of esteem – placing Luros, and Shadi, into the first estate of society’s roles and automatically making him the Priest of Magic. He couldn’t see the point. He had to admit his magic was getting better and better everyday, but he couldn’t conjure up anything better than nature provided. Orichalcum, vril and aether were all still the most potent magical forms known to Atlantis and he considered himself no expert on any of the states of magic. As he sulked to himself and played with his long hair, the voice of the WriterGod came through to them. As Luros had expected, the WriterGod told them to deal with it themselves. This was the response that the deity usually gave. Luros always found it confusing to be guided into creating an entire civilisation, told to worship and then told to stop bothering him. Why the WriterGod didn’t give more directions, especially on difficult issues that could lead, even, to the deaths of humans, was beyond Luros’ understanding. The WriterGod works in mysterious ways – that was the excuse he always gave to people that asked him the same question. Shadi, of course, had an answer. Shadi the Poet: “Naturally, this is an issue for the human condition and we must behave to the utmost standards.” Simon the Lawyer: “Quite right! So, the new laws!” Shadi the Poet: “Heeeeeey!” Renat the Scientist: “I’m sorry, Shadi, but I also believe that rules and regulations are necessary. Science is, essentially, figuring out the rules by which the universe works. Why should it be different for our social interactions? And make no mistake, that is what laws do. They allow us to govern our minds. I don’t think laws would have such a negative impact on the freedoms or the creativity of people as you believe. Unless you mean the freedom to maim or the creativity to find new and inventive means of murder?” Tennant the Doctor: “Luros? What do you think?” Luros the Magician: “Uuuuuuuh…” Although all of the twelve members were of equal political clout and all opinions and thoughts were of equal value, often the opinions of the first estate were considered more important – even by the twelve themselves. There was no rules to enforce this system, it simply fell upon them naturally. Unfortunately, this only added to Luros’ burden. Luros the Magician: “Well, I’m not really sure. I can understand Shadi’s point of view… but if lots of cannibal people come to live here then I guess our whole society will be a cannibal society?” Shadi the Poet: “Then, it seems I have no choice but to relent!” Luros the Magician: “Sorry, Shadi.” Shadi lifted his long pipe from the table. It was half-a-metre long and he heated up the base. Shadi the Poet: “No need to apologise. It’s not like I don’t accept the prevailing point of view. I am just lamenting the loss of freedom, whether that freedom is lost for a greater good or not is irrelevant. It is still a loss, all the same.” Simon the Lawyer: “Stop being so melodramatic! I’m a lawyer anyway! It’s what I’m here for!” There’s a long pause. Nobody had ever considered what Simon was supposed to be doing before. Now it seemed the WriterGod’s true intentions were made clear – though why he didn’t just tell them this in the first place was a frustration to Luros. Simon seemed satisfied with the result. Luros the Magician: “Well, now that we’re on the subject of our roles – Kaesar, what is your role? I don’t think killer is a job. In fact, aren’t we about to have laws against killing?” Kaesar the Killer knit his brows together and looked at Luros. Kaesar the Killer: “Where does your meat come from, Luros?” Luros the Magician: “Well, actually, I conjured myself a stake yesterday! With magic! Can you believe it!? Magic steak!” Shadi the Poet: “Well done, Luros.” Shadi was the only one impressed. Tennant the Doctor: “I think Kaesar is telling us, hunting is part of his role.” Kaesar the Killer: “Exactly. Where do you suppose Darji gets his furs from? His leather? And now my role will expand.” Tennant the Doctor: “What do you mean?” Simon the Lawyer: “We will need to ensure that people follow these laws and what punishments are to be carried out. I will govern a body that will do the latter. The former will need strong people to catch those who would break the laws.” Shadi the Poet: “Oh! Is this really necessary!?” Simon the Lawyer: “You spend too much time with the fairies, Shadi. If a human breaks the law, they will try to escape punishment. And, better yet, we want to stop people before they break laws at all!” Tennant the Doctor: “Doesn’t seem like a killer would be required for that.” Kaesar the Killer: “There might be. A person comes to town with a weapon and starts killing people in the street. What do we do?” Shadi the Poet: “How you can think that will ever happen…” Kaesar the Killer: “Hopefully it won’t. But if it does. We need soldiers. We need guards. We need protectors. The people of Lemuria have a strong system of soldiers to keep everyone in line. The template is already laid out for us!” Tennant the Doctor: “Isn’t Lemuria constantly embroiled in war?” Shadi the Poet: “I suppose then your role would really expand, wouldn’t it?” Kaesar the Killer: “I will do whatever is necessary. Whatever is necessary by the laws that we all choose.” He pointed a finger and swung it across the room to include everyone. Kaesar the Killer: “We all want what’s best for Atlantis. When we were small, that was easy. But as we grow ever larger, it will become more complicated. We need a system to help us. WriterGod has seen to it that we should judge and govern ourselves in our mortal lives and that’s what we’re doing.” Templemont the Builder: “And we must build foundations for our descendants to follow.” Shadi laughed. Shadi the Poet: “You just had to work in a building line in there somewhere, didn’t you?” Templemont the Builder grinned from ear-to-ear. Templemont the Builder: “I thought it was quite clever!” Shadi the Poet: “Yes, well done Templemont.” Tennant the Doctor: “Although, best leave the words to Shadi, eh?” Tennant rolled his eyes. Though Luros knew Tennant was a man now, he couldn’t help but see pretty eyes in the man’s face. When they had originally come to the Atlantean Continent, Tennant had been a female. But with the scientific knowledge of Renant, the magic of Luros and Tennant’s own skill with biology, she was able to transform herself into a man. He felt much more comfortable with who he was now that he was male and, therefore, much happier for it. He was very skinny and had a long neck, which hadn’t been noticeable when he wore his hair long, and he had grown thick layer of stubble across his jaw like a black carpet. For some reason, he insisted on wearing a white coat. Renat also wore a similar coat and this made everyone else begin to wonder if they were supposed to be wearing matching uniforms. Tennant’s hair was now shaved close to the scalp so that the stubble ran into the hair seamlessly. He was frowning at Shadi. Tennant had come to the conclusion that smoking magic vapours was bad for your health, and even for the health of everyone around you. So Shadi’s habit of indulging in his pipe, even at the Round Table, was frustrating Tennant to a great degree. Luros wouldn’t be surprised if smoking such things was deemed illegal by Tennant if he was able to influence the laws they were about to make. Possipher the Cakemaker: “Well now, I just want to ask about these laws. I know they’re being made to stop evil acts, like killing and eating people – though I wonder what a human pie would be like? – but can they be made to help us protect our creations?” Tennant the Doctor: “What do you mean? Stop people stealing? Seems good.” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Well there’s that. But I saw, just yesterday, that Mr Smith, down the road, had stolen my recipe for hazelnut baguettes! I thought, you can’t do that! That’s my idea!” Luros the Magician: “Baguettes aren’t cakes. Why were you making breads?” Possipher growled at Luros through his chubby face. Possipher the Cakemaker: “I am Possipher the Baker! I bake more than just cakes, dammit!” Tennant the Doctor: “Cakes are bad for you anyway.” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Hold on, now. Just because I’m more than a cakemaker, doesn’t mean I don’t bake cakes at all!” Tennant the Doctor: “You haven’t been following my diet regimen, I noticed.” Possipher’s eyes bulges with guilt and he squirmed in his chair. Possipher the Cakemaker: “I have to sample my own dishes, else I don’t know if they’re good enough for others!” Tennant leaned onto the table. Tennant the Doctor: “You also need more exercise.” Kaesar the Killer: “Perhaps you can take about trivialities later?” Tennant the Doctor: “Health is not trivial! Especially for Possy!” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Don’t call me that.” Tennant the Doctor: “Not everyone is suited to an active lifestyle, like you Kaesar. Some people need help and guidance to remain healthy.” Kaesar the Killer: “I hope you’re not saying we should have laws to tell people what they can or can’t eat?” Tennant the Doctor: “Why not? I guarantee, sugar kills more people than a blade.” Possipher blanched at this. Possipher the Cakemaker: “B-B-But then nobody can eat my cakes!” Tennant the Doctor: “Within moderation.” Possipher the Cakemaker: “B-b-but they’re really good!” Tennant the Doctor: “…” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Really, really good!” Tennant the Writer: “…” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Really, really, really good!” Shadi the Poet: “Forcing people to live by your health standards is probably not going to endear you to anybody, Tennant.” Tennant slowly turned his menacing gaze to Shadi and his pipe. The poet faltered for a moment, pipe frozen en route to his mouth, but he then smirked with mischief and drew a long, powerful drag on the pipe. Simon the Lawyer: “We can address less important issues at a later date.” Stirling the Merchant: “We are considering theft as one of the important issues, right? More stealing happens in this city than murder, right now. I gotta protect my gold!” The other eleven all groan with frustration. Kaesar the Killer: “Nobody cares about your pointless, shiny metal, Stirling.” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Yes! And stop giving it to people! I had one woman come and try to trade me gold for a cake a few days ago! I asked, what on earth am I supposed to do with that!? It was very embarrassing!” Stirling the Merchant: “You take it from her and give her the cake. Then you can give the gold for something else you need!” Possipher the Cakemaker: “But why!? I can just give them a cake in return for something else!” Stirling narrowed her eyes at him. Stirling the Merchant: “Now, I know this will be an alien concept to you, but, what if… someone doesn’t want one of your WriterGod damned cakes!” Possipher gasped with horror and held a hand to his weak heart. His lower lip wobbled and he turned to look at the others for emotional support. Tennant reached over and stroked his back. Tennant the Doctor: “It’s alright, Possy…” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Don’t - *sniff* - call me that…” Simon the Lawyer: “Okay, we can put laws against theft right at the top too. Whether it’s gold or anything else.” Stirling the Merchant: “And I want to do something I’m calling taxation!” Simon frowned. He knew this session was getting way off track and Stirling had a cruel habit of running every conversation into conversations of mathematics and something she kept calling ‘economics’. He hated it. Stirling the Merchant: “We are running this city on behalf of the WriterGod, right? Right now we work with people to get the stuff we need to help improve the city. But we can’t always get what we want, right? What do we do?” Kaesar the Killer: “Kill them.” Awkward silence. Kaesar the Killer: “If some settlement won’t give us the resources we need, we go and kill them and take what we need. Simple.” Luros was reluctant to be the first to pipe up; Luros the Magician: “Um. I thought we were about to make laws against killing people?” Kaesar the Killer: “Our people! If some far off settlement doesn’t follow our laws, then our laws don’t apply to them. We can kill them all.” Tennant the Doctor: “Barbaric.” Simon the Lawyer: “Even I’m a bit perturbed, Kaesar.” Kaesar the Killer: “Fine. Whatever. You asked a question, I answered it.” Kaesar was a well-built man with strapping muscles. He liked to have them on display so his body could intimidate others into behaving when in his presence. He was a serious man with a very practical mind. If a problem presented, he sought the best solution to that problem – morality and philosophy were secondary concerns. He was a man of action. He often worked with Templemont for construction purposes, crafting physical works to great affect in improving the wealth of food. Fisheries, hunting lodges, hunting tools, protective walls. When monstrous creatures threatened the city, it was Kaesar who was first into battle to protect everyone and he did so without ever asking for respect, praise or wealth. He considered it his duty to keep everyone safe, well fed and happy. He was willing to do bad things so that others wouldn’t have to. Many were often weary over his status as ‘killer’ but he was never evil or cruel and never revelled in death. He was secure in the knowledge that mortals would go on to the next life with the WriterGod. Death was not the end and was nothing to fear. When he reached the WriterGod’s side, he would be satisfied that he had died protecting the WriterGod’s chosen people. He kept his head bald. Long hair was often a liability in battle. As was any body hair. In a wrestling match, armpit hair could be yanked out. A trick he remembered using a few times. He had quite gotten as far as grabbing nose hairs yet. Stirling the Merchant: “Well, yes… killing and taking resources won’t be necessary if we use taxation! The people give us stuff.” Simon the Lawyer: “In the laws?” Stirling the Merchant: “Yes!” Simon the Lawyer: “Why would they agree to do that?” Stirling the Merchant: “If they don’t, we can’t provide adequate services. For example, right now the doctors are paid directly by patients. But what if we paid the doctors? People pay us, we pay the doctors.” Tennant the Doctor: “And then people who cannot pay a doctor can still be treated!” Stirling the Merchant: “Yes! Wait, I mean, no! We can’t be giving free stuff away, come on!” Renat the Scientist: “How would people pay us? We need a lot of building supplies, some food supplies but the clockmakers cannot pay us lots of clocks.” Stirling the Merchant: “GOLD!” There was a lot more groaning. Except from Simon. Simon the Lawyer: “We get people to pay us gold. Then we use that gold to pay someone for their bricks. They pay us the gold we just gave them. Free bricks!” Stirling the Merchant: “That’s not quite right…” Simon the Lawyer: “People pay us gold, we pay doctors gold, people get treated. People pay us gold, we pay fishermen gold, people get fish. It’d all… all be free! That’s genius!” Stirling grinned. Stirling the Merchant: “Well, yeeeeeeees~! I am a bit of a genius, I must say.” Simon the Lawyer: “I can see a lot of… craft would need to go into this. There would need to be rules. Laws. Lots and lots of regulation. Taxation. A wonderful, wonderful word.” Possipher the Cakemaker: “Does this mean I will need to accept that heavy metal when I sell a cake!?” Stirling the Merchant: “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees~~!” Her enthusiasm was infectious, apparently, because Simon was also grinning, and he never grinned. Li the Toolmaker: “If you are going to use gold to trade, it will need to come in exact measurements. You can just hand over any old piece of gold and expect it to be worth the same amount as a small or large piece.” Stirling clapped her hands together excitedly. Li the Toolmaker: “I could craft them into, say, circles. Each circle would be precisely measured to contain the exact same amount of gold as the next. So one circle is always worth the same amount of gold. Then you can measure the worth of something. One cake is equal to one gold circle. Two cakes, two circles. But a whole cow, maybe that’s worth several circles.” Possipher was affronted. Possipher the Cakemaker: “Why would a smelly, old cow be worth more than one of my delicious cakes!?” Stirling the Merchant: “Well, by weight alone... but, it doesn’t matter, because worth would also include talent and skill! The better someone’s cake, the more they can charge! Mrs Smith’s cake might be worth just one circle, but yours is worth two! Or three! Or more!” Possipher mobbed his brow, placated. Possipher the Cakemaker: “Well, that’s only natural. Of course.” Li the Toolmaker: “Of course, the circles should be embossed with something to make it clear the circle is our circle. An Atlantean circle. Maybe a picture of the WriterGod?” They all considered. Luros the Magician: “What, uh, does the WriterGod look like, again?” Simon the Lawyer: “How about a picture of the grand temple instead?” Li the Toolmaker: “That could work.” Li was writing notes down. Atlantean writing consisted of complicated drawings to create meaning. Some pictures were phonetic symbols, representing certain sounds, while others were literal, albeit stylistic, drawings of objects or actions. When a mistake was made, there was even a glyph that meant ‘please forgive the mistake I just made’. Li wasn’t the best writer around and so her parchment was quickly covered in a lot of the ‘please forgive the mistake I just made’ glyphs. Li was a short woman with a face that always appeared to be angry, even when she was happy. Her body was small and slim. Some were surprised that she could craft weapons in a blacksmith with such a small frame, but she was not one for crafting such basic constructs. Swords were far below her skill level. Her fingers were used on the fine crafting skills required for intricate and complex devices. Almost every day, Renat had a new brainstorm of ideas and many of them resulted in incredibly sophisticated prototypes of machines and gadgets from the nimble fingers of Li. Her skin was bronzed yellow and her black hair short and tatty. She worked extensively with Darji, the tailor, to create smart and practical work-friendly clothes that were soon used by craftworkers across the city. Simon the Lawyer: “Seems we have a lot of work cut out for us today! Laws upon laws!” He rubbed his hands eagerly. Simon the Lawyer: “Let us get down to business.” The framework of Atlantean society was fashioned by the Twelve Founders and continued to be built upon by the ever-growing city. It was unlikely that any of them could have truly imagined how their work would grow into an empire that embraced complex laws and used their concept of gold to create the world’s first currency. The Atlantean circle was the predominant currency until its demise, even when rival nations, such as the lands of Lemuria and Antediluvia, tried their own currency. As pure as the Founders may have intended their systems to be, laws and money would become the bedrock for corruption within Atlantean society. There was always someone willing, and able, to take advantage of the system and bend it for their own gains. Those in power used the law to exert their dominance, while those seeking power used their wealth to close the gap. Centuries later, Hippothoon was studying the mechanics of these systems. It was clear to him how they had been perverted but he couldn’t understand why nobody else saw the problems. Ultimately it was Addai Theos, his mentor and guardian, who pointed out that only those affected by these problems will voice their concerns. Those who are not affected will remain quiet. It’s not their problem. Hippothoon realised he was much the same. He was affected by the corruption and contempt of those in power, so he had to act. Would he have ever even considered these problems if his mother had not been murdered? The legacy of the Founders had been watered down and they were the most corrupt in all the land. Whatever honour their forefathers once had, their descendants had lost. The only reason they were entitled to their position on the Atlantean Council, which was the term now used to refer to the twelve men and women in charge of the land, was their supposed connection to the WriterGod. And yet nobody, save those twelve, had never had confirmation that the WriterGod acknowledges this hereditary claim. There were no documents that Hippothoon could find to suggest that a seat on the council was ever meant to be passed from parent-to-child. It was merely tradition, Hippothoon was certain. The best way to claim his vengeance was to bring down the Atlantean Council and expose their misdeeds so that even those with no steak in the issues could not be left ignorant. He couldn’t simply kill them all, as Addai had suggested. He knew enough of Atlantean history to understand that the culture was built on rules. There had to be legitimacy behind his actions. He had to use the law against them. He would have to begin small and build up. He would deal with his treacherous grandfather, Cercyon, before he would then deal with Cercyon’s wife, the councillor, who gave him the power to behave as he did. Of all the Atlantean Councillors, she was the greatest threat against his efforts to expose them. It would not be the Lawyer. The Lawyer could only act according to the laws. The Lawyer was regulated by the written word. And that was were the battleground for legitimacy had to be fought. It was the written word and the well-written speeches that would draw the crowds to his side. Or to theirs. She was the Poet. She was the writer. The songwriter. The master orator. Her words brought the hardest of hearts to emotional turmoil. He had to win the hearts and minds of Atlanteans. Notes Britt's Commentary "As with a lot of posts I do for Legends of the NeSiverse, what was supposed to be a small anecdote wound up being a slew of research and incorporated ideas from other Writers into a long, spiralling post. All I really wanted to do was set up a little bit of background into Atlantean politics to reference how the later Atlantean Council would become corrupt. To do this, I had to delve into the original Twelve Founders that had primarily been crafted by Al Ciao the Writer and Gebohq the Writer, with only a few of them even named. In NeS2 Post 1881, Al Ciao the Writer wrote that all the twelve members were 'men with their wives' but I was able to slightly skew the meaning of the line to make the whole endeavour less sexist in representation and I included female members of the founders. One character was given the male gender, Tennant the Doctor, so I reimagined him as a transexual. I created Li the Toolmaker and Stirling the Merchant entirely from scratch, while Kaesar the Killer did have a little personality outlined in notes by Gebohq the Writer. Most of the characters were without physical description, so I delved into that and especially had fun with the appearance of Luros the Magician but wanted to give them all very unique appearances. Even Kaesar got 'zero body hair', despite otherwise being fairly typical in appearance. The reference to the writing system is from Mayan writingMaya Script article, Wikipedia. system, which was revealed in NeS2 Post 1113 by JM the Writer, to have originated from Atlantean writing. The concept of the varying estates in the Atlantean social structure was imagined by Gebohq the Writer, fashioned after the French Medieval EstatesEstates of the Realm article, Wikipedia.. It was this very social structure, and the legal system implemented, that initially was simple and functional, became the foundation for the corruption that was later endured during the time of Hippothoon Eleusis. I also made Shadi the Poet as something of a dreamer, while Simon the Lawyer a cynical realist - which I think suit their supposed roles. But the role of prime writer could be used for ill, which was an angle I used for Shadi' descendent, Fayd the Poet and wife to Cercyon." ~ Britt the Writer References External References Category:Post Category:NeS1 Post